“No way. I don’t stay away from drugs and all that sort of stuff to be a good role model. It’s just not my scene. I’m not into it. I don’t like it, and I don’t want to be a part of it. So I stay away from the people whose lives are ruled by it.”
“Your parents must be really proud of you.”
“They are. I think.” She scrunched up her nose. “They don’t really treat me any differently. And they don’t play favorites between me and my sister.”
“Wait,” I said. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah.”
“Younger or older?”
“Younger. She’s graduating from high school in a few weeks.”
“I had no idea.”
“And here I thought you knew everything about me,” she said with a wink.
“The only thing I really know about you is that your lips are my kryptonite.”
“So you want to stay away from them?”
I inched closer to her. “I never said I was Superman.”
I crawled across the couch and hovered above her body. Reaching for her beer, I placed it on the floor and leaned my face toward hers. Closing my eyes, I crushed my lips against hers and tucked my arm under her waist, lifting her body up against mine. She wiggled her hips and rubbed herself against the hardness in my pants. I stopped myself from moaning.
Our tongues were melding together as I nibbled and bit at her. The way her hips raised into me, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against her. I worked myself into a frenzy with all the gentle grazing, teeth biting, wet tongues kissing, and hips rubbing.
Pulling my mouth away from hers, my hips continued to grind into her warmth. Her mouth fell open, and I forced myself not to grab her again. I pushed up from her, smiling at the effec
t I had on her.
“Oh good Lord, Tatum. You can’t just do that to me!”
“But I did.” I smirked before moving back over to my side of the couch. I wasn’t sure why this thought popped into my head, and she might get mad as hell at me for asking it, but now that she was sitting here like this, I suddenly found myself wanting to know. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” she said as she ran a finger across her bottom lip.
“Since you mentioned your reputation and all that, remember those tabloid reports about you and that director?”
Her sweet expression immediately dropped and turned sad. “Remember? How could I ever forget.”
“Was it true?”
“Tatum!” she yelled. “I was seven-freaking-teen. And he was forty-five!”
I shrugged. “I’m sure that kind of thing happens in Hollywood all the time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “First of all, ew. Second of all, it might happen sometimes, but it didn’t happen with me.”
“Not an ounce of truth to it at all?” I was pushing her and I knew it.
“I was naive then, far more naive than I am now. But no. Nothing happened between us. And I probably would have freaked out and cried in a corner if it did.”
“So people can just say whatever they want in the news and tabloids? It doesn’t have to even be remotely accurate?”
She nodded. “Pretty much. As long as they say they got their information from a source,” she drew quotes in the air, “they can write whatever they want.”
“That’s wrong. And screwed up. I don’t like it.” I found myself getting defensive of her innocence again. Imagining Paige at only seventeen years old, dealing with that kind of thing, made my blood run hot.